


Christmas Baking With Edmundo Diaz

by R_E_R6



Series: Buddie Christmas 2020 [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_E_R6/pseuds/R_E_R6
Summary: When Eddie asks Buck to help him bake for Christopher's school Christmas fair, Buck definitely isn't expecting the scene he finds when he walks through the door.He isn't expecting anything else that happens either. It seems the day is full of very pleasant surprises.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Buddie Christmas 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056614
Comments: 28
Kudos: 335
Collections: 25 (More) Days Of Buddie





	Christmas Baking With Edmundo Diaz

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Buddie Discord Advent day 9, with the prompt 'Christmas Baking With Edmundo Diaz.'

“Hey, so, how do you feel about doing me a favour?”

Buck scoffs at the sheepish greeting, his eyebrows already lifting towards his hairline. “Hi, Eddie. Yeah it  _ was _ nice of me to call you out of the blue. Oh, me? Yeah I’m good, just watching some TV, how about you?”

“Sorry,” Buck heares the grimace in Eddie's apology and shakes his head in amusement. Eddie continues rambling, "you probably called for a reason and I totally-”

“I’m only joking, Eddie. I didn't really call for anything, I’m just bored and wanted to talk to you. So, what’s up?”

Silence is all that greets him, leaving Buck to wonder if there’s a problem with the line until Eddie clears his throat.

“Oh, well, thanks.”

Eddie’s voice is so adorably soft, almost breathless. As he says the words, practically a whisper, Buck finds himself smiling in delight at how pleased he sounds. He stops still, just staring out of the window and listening intently for Eddie to continue and his lips twitch at the corners. The twitch becomes a smile that only grows when the silence stretches out again, until he is chuckling softly to himself.

“Eddie,” Buck prompts when it becomes clear the other man isn’t going to speak without it, “you were asking a favour,” 

Eddie makes a faint sound of confusion on the other line, like an open-mouthed hum, and Buck wants nothing more than to be there with him to see the look on his face right now. Buck can picture him shaking his head to clear his thoughts as he comes back to his sense and speaks again.

“Oh, right, that. It’s nothing serious, really, you can say no if you don’t want to. Or you’re probably busy or something.”

Buck curls his lips around his teeth and closes his eyes as he resists the urge to laugh. Instead of poking fun at him and pointing out that he was the one who called, and that he just said it was because he was bored, Buck takes pity on him. It is clear from the way he stutters out the sentence, the words seeming uncoordinated as they tumble from his mouth, that Eddie is unusually frazzled. It's so contrary to Eddie’s typical carefully put-together manner that Buck’s bemusement quickly bleeds into concern. 

“Eddie, just spit it out, man. Whatever it is, I will help however I can.”

Eddie sighs, the sound seeming distant and therefore encouraging Buck to listen more closely. Buck can hear the sound of a wooden spoon knocking against the rim of a glass bowl and is just about to question it when Eddie begins to speak again.

“It’s just-”

Buck winces as a ruckus from the other end cuts him off. It sounds as if the spoon Eddie is using has hit the side of the bowl again, only this time more forcefully and much less precise. Buck is certain the spoon has been dropped when it is followed by another three thunks and Eddie’s muffled cursing along with the audible jostling of the phone. 

“Eddie, are you okay over there? Do you need me to come over?”

“No, well yes. Wait a second, stay there, don't move."

Buck moves the phone from his ear to stare at the screen as if it’ll explain away his confusion. Where does Eddie think he's going to go?

“Are you sure?” he asks, although he isn’t sure what an affirmation would even mean given Eddie’s conflicting reply. 

“Hold on.”

Eddie is further away now, seeming to have crossed the room and left the phone behind. Buck listens as something lands in the sink -the spoon he presumes- and the water runs briefly before Eddie’s footsteps get closer. 

“Is this a bad time? I can call you back."

“No, don’t hang up." he insists, his voice suddenly much closer. "I’m back, I just had to wash off my spoon.”

Ah, so it was a spoon. That explains...not much at all, actually.

“I’m so confused right now. What’s going on over there? Are you cooking? It sounds like you're cooking."

“Baking.”

That causes Buck’s eyebrows to shoot to his hairline. Eddie can cook pretty passably, but he’s no culinary expert and he absolutely hates following recipes. Baking though? Buck has  _ never _ seen him even attempt to bake anything. 

“Baking?” He repeats, incredulity heavy in his tone.Buck can't picture the scene. Baking is a science; a series of precise steps with precise ingredients in precise quantities, and Buck just can't fathom the idea of Eddie patiently measuring everything out and carefully following each instruction. He's has much more of a "throw it all in and see what happens" approach when it comes to food. It makes for an epic sandwich most days, but Buck doubts that method works as well for cakes and pastries. 

“Yeah, it’s a disaster,” Buck snorts, unsurprised, and Eddie tsks back at him, “Oh don’t give me that. I got cornered by the PTA moms about the school Christmas fair, they needed more things for the baked goods booth. It was a whole thing, I swear those women are- Anyway, long story short I bit off way more than I can chew, I’m out of eggs, flour and the will to go on. A second oven wouldn’t hurt but I can settle for an extra set of hands.”

Buck takes a few moments to let that all sink in. If Eddie was frazzled when he dropped the spoon, then he seems completely discombobulated by the end of his explanation. Honestly, Buck is still a little confused about how this ended up happening himself, but he finds his head nodding anyway. 

“So, just to clarify, you want me to come over and help you bake?”

“Please,” Eddie confirms desperately, “and bring eggs and flour?”

Another voice, Christopher, chimes through the phone. “And the almost stuff.”

“Oh, and the almond stuff.” 

“I- what almond stuff?”

“And more-”

“You know what,” Eddie interrupts as Christopher continues listing things off in the background, “I’ll just figure it all out right now and text you what to get instead so you have a list. I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

Buck snorts, his amusement having returned now that he knows Eddie’s crisis is in the kitchen and not of the catastrophic emergency variety. Though, from how it appears to be going so far, Buck half expects a fire or two to have broken out by the time he gets there. It’s why he rushes around immediately, slipping on his shoes one-handed as they say their goodbyes before throwing on his jacket and slipping out the door. 

By the time Buck reaches the store, Eddie’s list has grown by four items. Buck looks at them in confusion, trying to figure out what the heck Eddie could be making with all this. He can’t think of anything that includes all of them, but he gathers each and every item regardless. Just to be safe, he grabs some extra including the stuff he would need to make some basic cookies in case Eddie’s creation blows up in their faces and Buck has to take over. Maybe he can save the day, be Eddie's Knight in shining armour and then Eddie will lo- Nope,  _ focus _ .

It’s a little over an hour later when he knocks on Eddie’s front door. He can already hear music, sung in a language he doesn’t recognise, floating through the open kitchen window, overlaid with the sounds of an electric mixer and Christopher’s laughter. It’s completely uplifting, already brightening his mood and quelling his earlier boredom, and he hasn’t even seen them yet. God, he knew he was gone on Eddie, had come to terms with his feelings a while ago, but he has to acknowledge that this is a whole new level of whipped, even for him. 

The door swings open, and Buck finds a relieved looking Eddie with flour smeared up his forearms and dusted atop his hair. It's loose, tousled and slightly curly, and Buck has the urge to reach his hands up and sink into the silky strands under the guise of shaking the flour free. He balls his hands at his sides just in case and reminds himself that it would be a bad idea. 

“Thank God, I’ve been stuck without the almond meal.”

Eddie grabs the bags and spins around to head back to the kitchen, calling back for Buck to hurry up when he turns through the doorway. 

“You know I could have carried those the extra ten steps, Eddie.” Buck muses as he follows behind him. “It’s not- woah!”

Eddie’s kitchen is completely covered with the evidence of his current activities. Bowls are stacked high in the sink, leaning precariously with handles sticking out from the pile at random; trays and trays of cookies litter the kitchen table, filled with golden brown cookies in various shapes and sizes; the mixer is whirring, manned by Christopher who turns it off when Buck walks in before calling Eddie over to check the contents; and the oven is alight, with every shelf filled by even more trays, thought Buck can’t see what sits on them from the doorway. Judging by the heat that envelopes him as he steps into the room, and all the baked goods on display, Buck would guess that the oven has been working overtime for quite a while. Eddie and Christopher too.

Plus, there’s the smell! 

The whole house smells heavenly, like something out of a fairy tale. Buck suddenly understands why Hansel and Gretel were foolish enough to be lured into the witch’s house. If her house smelled anything like the delectable scents that surround him now then Buck might have fallen for her trap himself. Still, it’s not nearly as delicious as the sight of Eddie flitting around the kitchen, expertly taking and of his own organised chaos. Adding Christopher’s bowl from the mixer to a line of similar ones that sit along the counter, all covered in plastic wrap, Eddie returns to the dough he must have been needing before Buck arrived, his hands working expertly. Buck is finding it hard to keep his mind from wandering at the sight, especially when his eyes drift the movement of Eddie’s muscles between the thin white material of his t-shirt. 

“This is not what I was expecting,” Buck voices when he finally drags his eyes away. He sounds just as awed as he feels. They find Christopher instead, who grins back at him and waves enthusiastically. A thin layer of flour flies loose from his fingers at the gesture and floats around in the light that's pouring through the window. 

“Hi, Buck!” 

“Hey Buddy, you guys sure have been busy, huh?” His eyes flit between him and Eddie, who sets his dough aside, deeming it perfect. “What are you making?”

“Everything!” Christopher gleens, holding his arms out to gesture to the kitchen at large. “Dad couldn’t choose.”

“I did choose,” Eddie defends, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed defensively. “I just chose them all.”

“Abuela said it was too much.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t say I made good choices.”

Buck chuckles at the interaction and sidles closer to Eddie.

“Care to explain? Because I’m not going to lie I was expecting a lot of crispy edges and misplaced eggshells after our phone call.”

“I resent that.”

“Well you sounded completely out of your depth.”

Eddie sighs and leans his head forwards onto Buck’s shoulder as he groans, “I am. I took on too much.”

“I’ll say,” Buck snickers, “Just how tough are those PTA moms?”

“Very.” Eddie grumbles, before slumping more and letting out a sigh before he straightens up again and rolls his shoulders back. “It’s not that though, really I'm happy to do it. I just had so many recipes, you know? And I never usually have time to participate in these things so I don’t get asked, right? So when I did I just thought it would be cool. I’ve got a lot of old family recipes and I thought it would be nice for Chris to have some of them at the fair so he can show his friends.”

“That sounds fantastic, Eddie. I didn’t even know you baked.”

“I don’t, not really. Well, not often. But I figured I’d go for it now, only I’m pretty sure I went too ambitious. I have so many different things going on and I only have two hands.

“And mine!” Chris adds from behind him. Buck turns to see him dutifully transferring cookies from the cooled baking trays onto a rack over in the corner.

“Well, you have mine now too,” Buck assures him, “where do you want me?”

Eddie’s eyes flit downwards, and Buck feels as if they’re dragging across his entire body before their gazes meet. It makes him aware of how close they are all of a sudden, of how easy it would be to lean forwards and kiss the grateful smile off of Eddie’s lips until he’s sighing in pleasure and forgetting all about the stress of the day. 

“If you could cut out the tartlet bases and press them into the moulds while I whip up the next batch, that'd be great.”

“Will do boss,” Buck agrees with a mocking salute, before turning where Eddie points.

“I can’t find the almond meal,” Eddie says after digging through one of the bags. “You did get the almond meal right? I need it for-”

“In the other bag, Eddie, relax. We’ll get this all done.”

Now searching in the right bag, Eddie finds what he’s looking for in seconds, and pulls it out with a triumphant “aha!”

Buck looks up, completely smitten as he watches Eddie smile appraisingly at it before setting it down carefully alongside the other things he has set out already. 

Then, he turns those softened eyes on Buck, seeming much more at ease than when Buck first arrived. “Thank you, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

With the promise of help, Eddie’s movements become less frantic as he maneuvers himself effortlessly in his workspace. Buck watches him while he completes his own tasks, admiring the way Eddie glides smoothly from one action to the next, seeming completely at ease as he measures everything out ready to mix together. Every now and again he will turn back to Buck to check how he’s doing, or delegate another task for Christopher to complete in order to satisfy the boy’s desire to help out. 

Soon, they fall into comfortable conversation as they work before Buck quiets, letting Eddie take over the majority of the chatter while he simply listens to Eddie's soothing voice. With Buck's full attention, Eddie begins explaining all the treats he’s making and how he would spend hours in the kitchen as a child watching his mother try to teach his sisters while he, at first, had refused to participate. Then, one day his sisters had been out and his mother had been stress baking after a run-in with one of their neighbours who...wasn’t the most tolerant of women. Eddie had slipped into the kitchen and sat at the table watching her work all of her frustration out through her hands and hadn’t hesitated to give her a hand when she’d thrown the odd request over her shoulder. She’d seemed to relax at the help and so he sought more jobs, looking for any way to try and help his mother relieve herself of her bad mood. And he’d enjoyed it, too. So much that he begun to join her more often, standing right along side her and soaking everything in as she taught him more and more recipes. She never worked from a recipe, had them all in her head from when her father taught her, and Eddie had learned just the same way, falling in love with the entire process. 

It’s fascinating to listen to as Buck hasn't heard much about Eddie's mother’s family before. The Swedish side isn’t as large as his father’s side, he explains when Buck points this out, and he doesn’t see them nearly as much as members of his dad's family such as Abuela or Pepa. But it’s clear from the way he speaks, and the care he puts into every movement as he bakes, that he is just as fond and attentive towards his Swedish heritage. Buck can’t help but get sucked in by every detail, enamoured with the way Eddie gestures enthusiastically as he explains everything he has made and everything he still aims to get done. Eddie's eyes light up more and more as Buck listens too, obviously pleased by Buck’s sincere intrigue, and Buck feels strangely proud to have somehow triggered this reaction. 

Eddie is beautiful on any given day, but seeing the way he becomes so alive with passion as he speaks has Buck fixated on him completely until he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing. He winds up bent over with his forearms resting on the table, cookie dough and cutters forgotten, as he watches Eddie flit around the kitchen. He's expertly mixing together ingredients without pause while he recounts tale after tale of being in the kitchen, of being surrounded by warm scents and the comfort of family, and Buck is completely enamoured. 

The conversation -more of a monologue really- eventually shifts on to the story of a pint-sized Eddie, no older than Christopheer is now, sitting under a table stuffing his face with way too many sweets. He tells of being surrounded by music, dancing and laughter’ all the while, his face is filled with that same child-like glee that he describes. He looks absolutely breathtaking. Buck’s never seen him like this before, this carefree and animated. He decides then and there that he should ask Eddie about his family more often, or just baking in general. Especially if it means more dessert, because everything around him looks and smells absolutely, mouthwateringly good. 

Speaking of, Eddie is now putting together some sort of glaze that Buck can't wait to try even though he can't remember what it was for. Don’t judge, it’s hard to concentrate on what is being explained when the man you have feelings for does a taste test mid-sentence and freaking  _ moans _ like he’s having an orgasm. So yeah, he's sure it's delicious, whatever it is, and Buck is weak, okay?  _ Weak. _

“Were you going to finish cutting those out at some point, or do you want to keep staring at me all day?”

The callout has Buck’s arm buckling and he has to catch himself before he faceplants the reindeer cookie cutter that sits abandoned in front of him. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I’m almost done.”

Eddie just chuckles, turning to look over his shoulder to make sure Buck sees the way he shakes his head at him. 

“You’re a bad liar, Buckley.”

Buck scoffs at that, only to throw his hands up in theatrical outrage when Christopher also speaks up from behind them both.

“You’re so slow, Buck.”

“You too?” Buck asks as he swings around to face him. Chris grins and nods in response, so Buck stalks forward with his eyes narrowed playfully. “That’s it, you’re going to get it.”

Chris giggles nervously as Buck closes the gap, then shrieks when Buck reaches for a discarded bag of flour and reaches inside. With a flick of his wrist, white mist fills the space between them. When it clears, a stunned Christopher stands with his mouth agape, flour falling from his eyelashes as he blinks. 

“No fair!”

“Pfft, there are no rules,” Buck jokes before doing it again. 

Christopher laughs with a devious twinkle in his eye. Buck sees him trying to sneak his hand towards the bowl to his right, and takes a tentative half-step back when he realises it’s full of beaten eggs.

“Whoa, Christopher. That’s not fair, don’t-”

It’s too late. Chris has already wiped his gloop-covered hand down the front of Buck’s shirt, coating him in mess. It starts to soak through the material, making it stick to his skin uncomfortably and he grimaces, suddenly filled with regret. Maybe initiating a food fight was a bad idea. 

“There are no rules,” Christopher throws back at him. He looks incredibly smug and Buck tries to look annoyed but he can’t keep a straight face, he’s too impressed by the kid’s playful moxie. 

“I- okay, you have me there. Truce?”

Christopher pretends to think for a minute, only giggling out an agreement once Buck’s eyes narrow again. 

“Fine, fine.”

“Are you two kids done now?” Eddie asks, his voice much closer than Buck had anticipated. He spins on his heels and inhales sharply when he finds their faces within breathing distance.

“I am not a child,” he sputters eventually, after a beat too long spent staring at the amused sparkle in Eddie’s gemstone eyes. They’re the same eyes he pictures in his dreams, staring at him with undeniable love and lust. God, now is not the time to be having those particular flashbacks. 

“Well,” Eddie says, inching his face closer until Buck swears their eyelashes are brushing against each other, “maybe stop acting like one and get to work.”

Buck doesn’t move. He can’t move, not when Eddie is so close. He can barely breathe. Each rise of his chest feels heavy, strained, like he’s choking on his own desire while Eddie’s body heat consumes him. Or maybe it’s just the kitchen that’s hot. Yeah, that’s it. That explains why Buck’s skin suddenly feels like it’s on fire. 

“Buck’s a terrible helper, dad.”

That snaps Buck out of his trance, and his head turns slightly to look at Christopher. It’s yet another reminder that this is not the time or place to be thirsting after Eddie like he’s stranded and he’s the only glass of water for miles. 

“That he is,” Eddie agrees, ignoring Buck’s choked off protest. He lifts a hand and trails his knuckles down Buck’s chest, right beside the gross smear currently drying against his chest. He doesn’t dare look down, but he feels the touch like a brand and barely resists a shiver when Eddie casually adds, “dirty too.”

Buck swallows down a lump in his throat, his eyes feeling heavy and threatening to close. He wants so badly to let them fall shut, to tilt his head back and lean into Eddie’s hand. But he can’t, Chris is right there, and he doesn’t even know how Eddie would react to that. He has no idea what any of this means. Could Eddie want him back? Because it’s starting to feel like maybe there’s a chance here. Maybe, just maybe, Eddie wouldn't mind at all if he...

“You look like you’re about to kiss.”

Eddie pulls back with a strangled chuckle and Buck quickly turns his head to try and hide the way his blood rushes to the surface of his cheeks. Christopher doesn’t sound accusatory but Buck still feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. His face burns, and his hands twitch nervously. Eddie steps back and Buck slumps against the counter behind himself, avoiding Eddie’s eyes completely as he fixes his attention towards his own shuffling feet. 

“Come on, Christooher, head to the bathroom and wash your hands,” Eddie instructs to break the silence. “We don’t want eggs getting on anyone else’s clothes.”

There’s a short noise, like an aborted protest, before Christopher reluctantly agrees and shuffles his way out of the room. 

“Speaking of,” Eddie continues, stepping forward again to tug on the hem of Buck’s shirt, “we should probably get you out of this shirt.”

Buck knows what he means by that, but his mind still wanders anyway. As a result, he nods a little too enthusiastically while trying to knock those thoughts free from his mind. Eddie just hums and gestures for Buck to go first, sounding far too amused to help curb Buck’s embarrassment. There's no way he didn't notice that reaction. 

The walk to Eddie’s bedroom is intense; he feels Eddie’s eyes on him the whole way and by the time he’s there with Eddie’s back to him, he finds himself hesitating to pull off his shirt. He feels ridiculous. He’s never been self conscious before, and he knows he has no reason to be now, but his skin feels alright with nerves and his stomach twists in anticipation. He knows it’s just Eddie, and he knows they’ve been shirtless in front of each other countless times, but somehow this time feels different. He feels more vulnerable in a way he’s never experienced before. 

“Is a tank top okay?” Eddie asks, peeking over his shoulder as he does. Buck relaxes under the casual glance. His eyes are softer, less immobilizing when they'd bore into his soul in the kitchen. Now he actually feels like he can take a breath or speak without it slipping out as a moan. 

“Yeah, whatever’s fine.” He agrees easily with a shrug, going for nonchalance in an attempt to display composure. 

When Eddie turns back to grab one from the pile, he grabs the bottom of his shirt and begins lifting it over his head. He moves fast at first, only to slow his movement when he realises he has to be careful if he doesn’t want egg rotting in his hair in the hot kitchen for the rest of the day. His nose wrinkles at the thought and he pauses to pull his arms free, one by one, before bunching the shirt up at the neck and then stretching the material over his head. He puffs out a breath of relief when he gets it off without incident and tosses the offending item into the laundry basket beside Eddie’s door. 

It’s not until he makes the shot and looks back with a triumphant grin that he sees the way Eddie’s eyes are now tracking his movements, fixated on his bare skin. Fuck, has Eddie always looked at him like that?

“Found one,” Eddie says pointlessly as wave the clean shirt in hand. He steps forward, but makes no move to hand it over. Instead, he pokes Buck’s bare chest and looks up through his eyelashes to tease him. “Are you going to keep this one clean?”

Buck rolls his eyes, trying not to look as sheepish as he feels. “Yes, I’m going to keep it clean. No more food fights.”

“Good,” Eddie chuckles. Buck doesn’t miss the fact that he still hasn’t made any attempt to hand over the shirt. Buck also hasn’t made any attempt to take it. “He’s right, you know, you kind of have been a terrible helper. I feel like you’ve been staring at me more than you’ve been working.” 

“I’ve uh- I’ve kinda been distracted." He doesn’t mean to make the admission, and snaps his mouth closed to stop himself revealing anything else. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow, but Buck can’t quite read the look on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Distracted? What by?” Even if he could decipher the tone that accompanies that question, he doesn’t think he’d be able to pay attention to anything other than the way Eddie’s shirt stretches over his arms as they flex. Buck’s eyes are glued to them. He knows he’s being way too obvious, that he should look away, but he can’t for what feels like an age. When he finally does, he notices that Eddie’s watching him too, with his teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. 

“You,” Buck says softly, practically breathless. He blinks, clears his throat, and looks away. “Your stories, I mean. Sorry, I’ll help more I-”

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie says with a shrug, unfolding his arms. “I’m not exactly complaining.”

Warm fingers ghost across Buck’s lower abdomen causing heat to pool in his groin and the muscles to clench. The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and Buck watches as Eddie’s lips stretch into an inviting smirk, wide enough that his lip slips free from his teeth. Those fingers dance across his skin, dipping lower. Buck inhales sharply and loses all ability to think for a moment. Eddie steps closer still and catches Buck’s eyes, holding his gaze like something precious as his featherlight fingers trace along the waistband of his jeans. The same jeans that suddenly feel a lot tighter in certain areas than they did ten minutes ago. 

“I-” Buck doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he  _ should  _ say something but there are no words. All there is, is him, Eddie, and Eddie’s wandering hands. Eventually, he settles on “I should have been doing more.”

“How about this,” Eddie suggests, tilting head until every word brushes against Buck’s cheek, “we finish baking and you actually help like you came here to do, and then you let me take you to dinner to thank you.”

“Just to thank me?” As soon as the question leaves his lips, he knows there’s no going back. All his cards are on the table. There’s no way Eddie doesn’t know what he really means, what he really wants. 

“To start with.” He teases, and Buck can see just how smug he is. He must have been waiting for this, for Buck to give in and make it clear what he wants, because his lips press against Buck’s cheek in what is unmistakably a kiss. “Maybe though, when I’m done thanking you, I’ll take you home and kiss you properly.” 

Eddie pulls back and looks him in the eye, waiting for a response, but his hand curls around Buck’s hip in a secure hold. At first, Buck is speechless and all he can do is watch Eddie as he tries to catch his breath. Then, he looks at Eddie, really looks at him. 

His eyes twinkle with mischief, his smirk still in place. He’s leaning towards Buck, his chest raised in what is surely a display of pride. And the shirt, the one he’s supposed to have gotten for Buck to put on, is still held tightly in his grip. He hadn’t even tried to hand it over. He hadn’t wanted to. He’s done this on purpose, Buck realises. He knew it already, but seeing Eddie’s triumphant look now lets him know just how pleased Eddie is after teasing Buck speechless, driving him crazy until he practically melted into Eddie’s arms. God, he kind of hates him for it, his competitive streak demanding he returns the favour and makes Eddie weak for him too. But above all, he craves more. 

“Ass,” he says anyway, because this is Eddie and playfully insulting each other is what they do, even when kissing is apparently also a thing they do now. Damn, Buck can’t wait for more of that.

“Sure,” Eddie says with a shrug. It confuses Buck for a split second until Eddie’s eyes widen innocently and he finishes with, “wherever you want, Babe.” 

With that, he shoots Buck a wink and hangs the shirt over Buck’s naked shoulder. Then he walks away without another word, lightly trailing his fingers down the length of Buck's arm as he goes and leaving goosebumps behind. Buck stands there stunned and impressed with the implication of that statement. Eddie’s just joking, probably, but now that the idea is out there Buck isn’t going to let that thought pass him by without savouring it, and letting it fuel his desires. 

By the time Eddie’s footsteps disappear down the hall, Buck is chuckling dazedly at himself and rubbing at the back of his neck. Then he drops his and tilts his head back to send a stream of air shooting up to the ceiling. He needs to get himself together, he knows, so he takes a moment to breathe and rearrange his jeans as he wills himself to calm down enough that their tightness isn’t so noticeable. Then, he throws on his shirt with a newly ignited determination. The sooner he gets back out there, the sooner they can finish up the desserts for Chris’ school, and the sooner they can start planning their date. 

As Buck straightens out his shirt, the way it clings tight to his skin doesn’t go unnoticed. He also realises that his arms are on display, no longer covered by the long sleeves of his previous shirt, and wonders if that was for his benefit or Eddie’s. Honestly, it could be either, but Buck hopes it’s the latter just a little bit more. Either way, he’s happy to show them off. Maybe this time, Eddie will be the one distracted like a lovestruck fool. 

With that last thought, he makes his way into the kitchen. They don’t say anything when their eyes lock, though Buck does notice Eddie giving him an appreciative once over and licking his lips. Good, he thinks, look all you want. He doesn’t say that, though, not with Chris in the room. Instead, he makes his way back to the cookies he was prepping for the oven and claps his hands together. 

“Okay, let's get this baking done, am I right?”

He tries not to look at Eddie. He really is determined not to let anything distract him. But when Eddie looks back at him with that soft, secretive smile, Buck can’t help but pause to smile back, flexing his arms as he reshapes the cookie dough for rolling. Eddie’s spoon hits the side of his bowl with a familiar clang, and Buck smirks to himself as he gets back to work. 

  
  



End file.
